


right there where we stood

by roseisreturning



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseisreturning/pseuds/roseisreturning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Izzie leaves Washington and relearns what it's like to fall in love with a girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right there where we stood

**Author's Note:**

> this was technically finished at 11:57, so i'm totally counting it. literally the first grey's anatomy fic i've written, and a total mess. but it has ace!izzie, so!

You meet a girl just outside of Portland the first night, when you’re still realizing how everything fits together (you never were good at geography, but you have time, now, almost too much, and it’s easier to learn than to admit you can’t point out the one hospital that would take you.)  
She smiles a lot and plays with her hair and touches you when she talks.

And her name is Alex.

(You don’t know if you believe in karma now, but this is some kind of cosmic messed up that doesn’t happen on its own.)

“Alexandra’s okay, too,” she says, still smiling, hands still finding their way to you. “It’s kind of a mouthful, but…”

“It’s great!” you say, even though her face is immediately replaced by thoughts of secret sisters and divorce papers.

She shrugs, then orders another drink. “So, you’re from Seattle?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re talkative,” she says, and it’s something like a jab and something like filling the space and you think about busy hands and lying and wait until it’s late enough that you can feel normal.

She invites you over, eventually, and you need the company.

(There’s no expectation of sex, you know, and it’s nice, to have this thing, a sort of nonsexual one-night-stand and trying to remember what it feels like to be in love with a girl.)

It’s different, you know, than it was with George or with Alex. Not better, necessarily, or worse, but there is a certain quality to it you think you’ve missed.

You want that back, you think.

You could have that back, with Alex-Part-Two, probably, or with anyone, and this is when you decide to stay gone.

You leave Alex’s in the morning anyway, a kiss on the cheek and a thank you and the secret thought that you could have been in love with her, someday.

It’s almost as good as the real thing.

You don’t couchsurf, necessarily, or exchange cold sex for warm beds or even try to, but you find something comforting in spending minutes in love, with cities and with girls.

(They’re the same for you, girls with scrunched-up noses and glittering eyes at home in their cities and in you, and you remember how much you like being trusted.)

You buy postcards from anywhere that sells them, tape on Polaroids with people you just met and send them back home, to Meredith and Mom and even Cristina, sometimes, and think, maybe, she would like to know what you’ve been doing with the months you shouldn’t have had.

(As a follow-up, maybe, or as a friend.)

You stay in San Francisco for days, settle into a routine with the girl you met there, Kate, this tiny, red-haired artist, who asks, laughing, for a medical perspective on her latest works.

You fill your responses with jargon, with illogical connections and the best you’ve seen, and Kate smiles.

This is how you remember what it feels like, and you leave on a Saturday morning, Kate just heading to bed.

You find a job in San Diego, when you get there.

(This is its own kind of love.)


End file.
